


A Little Me Time For You Before The Fall

by McAntiLoughlin



Series: Flowers In The Walls (A Darkistache Family AU) [6]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alcoholics Anonymous, COVID-19, Chase Centered Fic, Corona - Freeform, Depression, Distrust, F/M, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, awkward first meetings, ex's, lockdown - Freeform, stuck together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23810692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McAntiLoughlin/pseuds/McAntiLoughlin
Summary: Chase Brody, while helping his now ex-wife Stacy and their kids move across country, gets invited to stay with an old buddy of his - only to find out his old buddy is now married and has four kids. All is going great, if a bit awkward, until the news about Covid-19 hits...
Relationships: Damien | The Mayor/Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel, Past Chase Brody/Stacy, Past The Host/Wilford Warfstache, Wilford Warfstache/Dark, Wilford Warfstache/Darkiplier, chase brody/stacy
Series: Flowers In The Walls (A Darkistache Family AU) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1134926
Kudos: 17





	A Little Me Time For You Before The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit longer than my other fics in this series, and subsequently took a Hell of a lot longer to write. It was planned to be longer, but I think where I left off is good for now. There may be a chance for a sequel but I can't be certain or make any promises. As Covid-19 continues I'm finding it harder and harder to get inspired or motivated to do much of anything but lay in bed and watch Netflix or Disney+. I hope you all are staying safe out there!

Chase could feel his old, beat-up used car vibrate beneath him despite the pristine pavement he was driving on being as smooth as his face after a fresh shave. His stereo was low and staticky from disuse, and the smell of both weed and cigarettes covered the interior. When he looked out his window he couldn’t help but feel that he does not belong in a town this nice. 

Straight out of a storybook, the small town is just like every other small town in those cheesy Hallmark movies that play from July until Christmas. Large oak trees and nice looking old brick buildings with flags waving on their sides line the small, crowded streets. Kids are playing in mowed, fall-leaf littered lawns, while parents converse next to picnic tables and grills. 

He could see why his wi-  **_Ex_ ** _ -wife _ . He reprimands himself internally. Why his ex-wife chose to move eighteen hours to get away from a city like LA; why she chose to take the kids with her to get away from him.

He understood. 

He did, he really truly did understand it.

He picked up his phone from his bag he had thrown on the passenger seat and glanced down at Google Maps when he came to possibly one of the only stoplights in the whole town. On it he could see he was only a few minutes away from his destination, one of many pit stops in helping his ex move here.

Chase hadn’t seen his old drinking buddy and friend Wilford Warfstache since a few days after his breakup with the Host almost a decade ago now. The last time they had been together, Chase could just barely remember drunken conversations about both of their recent splits with their partners. And while Chase had taken his most recent split with his now ex-wife and mother to his three children, Stacy, pretty hard. Compared to how Wilford had looked after breaking it off with Host, he felt as if the man knew more pain than he did now.

He pulled up the street, tired eyes glancing back and forth to look for the actual address Wil had given him when he heard Chase was coming through. 

All of the houses on the street were large scale and more than likely cost more than what Chase could make in a year on his failing YouTube channel. 

Eventually he found the right address, and he checked and rechecked his phone to make sure he had it right. 

The house in front of him was easily the biggest one on the block. Two stories high, large floor to ceiling windows, huge trees and a wrap-around front porch. He knew Wilford could easily afford such a big house, but the pink haired man Chase knew would never buy something that was more than what he needed- so the large house somewhat confused him.

_ Surely Wilford couldn’t have changed that much after going to AA meetings? _

Steeling his nerves, Chase grabbed his bag and walked up to the heavy looking double doors and rang the doorbell. He only had to wait for a moment before Wilford opened the door, dressed in a pastel floral print polo and form-fitting khaki pants with shiny leather dress shoes, looking every bit the eccentric playboy millionaire he was.

“Chase old chum!” He shouted joyfully in his garbled voice, bringing his slim frame into a bear hug against his strong arms and chest. “I’m so glad you could make it! We have so much to catch up on dear friend!”

Chase let out a chuckle and Wilford set him back down onto the ground. 

“It’s good to see you too Wil.”

“Come in, come in!”

Wilford didn’t wait for Chase to respond, instead grabbing him by his shoulders and pushing him inside to the grand and cluttered entryway of Wilford’s home. The floors were a dark, polished wood and the walls were painted brightly with sunlight streaming in from the overtly large windows. On either side of Chase in the short hall were overflowing coat racks and shoe bins with a few bags thrown haphazardly near them. Plants, dozens and dozens of lush plants were everywhere. All of them were thriving and producing colorful flora of some kind. 

Chase reached a tentative hand out to touch one of the large red flowers on a particularly big bush in a pot when Wilford’s words cut through.

“I see you like the plants. My son named that one Pepi. The blue ones next to it on the stand are Stitch and Adalaide.” The man all but gushed proudly.

_ “My son”? Wilford… had a… son? _

“All of the plants are his… well, most of them that is. Lee and Sharron own a few that we planted outside in the backyard by the pool. Anthony owns a couple plants too, but he doesn’t know we know about his stash he has in his room.”

Wilford came up beside him, pointing at the said blue plants, a wide smile on his face as he spoke of… his kids? Did Wil have kids? As in more than just a son?

“How-” Chase swallowed, brows furrowing. “How many kids do you have?”

“Oh! How could I forget about telling you!? We have four.” Wilford reveals proudly and Chase can feel his mind reeling already. “Two boys, two girls. The twins and Sharron are still living with us, but Leeanna just moved away for college with her girlfriend Hailey a few months ago.”

Chase followed the loud man out of the entryway and into the large, open kitchen that's decorated in white’s and pale yellows and even more plants that are on the long counter and by the large dining table. He leads Chase over to one of the barstools at the counter and has him sit, rummaging about in the fridge before bringing out a bottle of Brandy that was hidden away in the freezer. He pours two tumblers and slides one over to Chase, setting the bottle between them.

“So tell me old friend,” Wil takes a sip. “What have you been up to this past decade?”

Chase has no idea where to start.

His divorce? 

Losing the kids and half his money? 

The fact his only means of making money since college is on the decline and that he now has to live in a cramped, shitty little apartment on the edge of his home town?

He takes the cool glass into his hand. He stares down at the caramel colored liquid before tossing it all back down his throat eagerly. He had almost forgotten about how bad his life had gotten since he had last seen Wilford in a half-drunken heap on a ratty couch much like the one Chase owns now.

“Are you okay?”

“I lost the kids, Wil,” is all he manages to say.

It’s quiet and Chase doesn’t look up into the pitying face he knows is looking down on him. He  _ can’t _ look up into those bright brown eyes of his friend, now happy and joyful like they used to be before everything that happened with the Host. He doesn’t want to bring the man down after he finally found his own kind of happiness, but Chase knows that if he doesn’t talk about it with someone, he’s going to break harder than Wilford did last time they saw each other.

“I’m- I’m so sorry Chase.”

“Don’t be.” He says, voice a whisper but now scratchy from the burn of the alcohol. “They’re better off with Stacy now anyways. I can barely support myself with the way YouTube’s been; No one wants to watch a video littered with ads just to see a sad sack of a man who’s clearly not into his job and can’t afford big, extravagant stunts anymore try to be someone he isn’t.”

Wilford says nothing again for a while. And Chase is secretly grateful. He knows Wilford and he can’t handle the cheer and high energy that comes when he’s trying to get someone to not be upset about something.

Before Wil can say anything when it looks like he’s found the words finally, they both hear the front door creak open and the loud musings of teenagers freshly off from a long day of highschool. They’re loud and obviously happy like their dad, and Chase pushes the few tears back before they can even spill. 

He turns to glance over his shoulder when he hears them coming around the corner towards the kitchen. 

The first teen he sees is tall and slim, blond hair made up in a loose and messy ponytail with scruff on his chin and bright green eyes. He carries a bag on one shoulder and a sly grin on his angled face. His voice is deep and cheerful. The class-clown, stoner type Chase deduces right away.

Following close behind is another boy who is much shorter and, for lack of a better word,  _ softer  _ in shape. With an undercut made up of long purple hair and a brown-almost-black buzz that looks near due for a trim. He’s quieter, though just as happy to be home as the other two that walk in front and beside him. 

Chase doesn’t quite know what to think about him other than he looks younger than the other two.

The last to enter is a girl of around 15 with dirty blonde hair down to her shoulders and brown eyes. She’s easily taller than the purple haired boy by a few inches and has a body that suggested track and field as an afterschool activity. As soon as she notices there’s someone in the room besides her dad who she doesn’t know, her face morphes into a suspicious glare, stopping in her tracks and holding an arm out in front of the shorter boy.

The boys each pause when they finally notice Chase, going completely silent and stopping in their journey towards the large fridge. The one with curly purple hair glances over to Wilford, a curious expression on his face. 

“Hey dad, who’s that?” 

His voice is a little higher than normal for a boy his age, but it sounds close enough to being masculine that Chase would be able to tell even if he couldn’t see him.

“This is my old friend, Chase Brody. Me and your father have offered to let him stay with us while he helps a friend of his move into the area… “

The three teenagers stare at him. 

Chase chooses to ignore the looks for as long as he can before they inevitably get to him and he ends up turning to face them again. They look at him as if he is something foreign - which he is. To them at least. Wilford’s kids have never met him before, and he can’t exactly blame them for being on the side of caution as they are now.

“Why don’t you three go wash up for dinner while Chase and I continue to catch up down here?”

They each look hesitant to leave their dad with someone they just met, and Chase can understand and appreciate how much they seem to care about his friend. Lord knows Wilford needs all the love and care he can get, even if it was just from a couple of teenagers. 

Eventually, though, they listen to their dad and follow one another out of the room and up the floating stairs.

It’s quiet again until Wilford gives Chase a _ look _ he knows he’s not going to be able to avoid.

“I’m sorry you’ve lost your kids Chase.” 

The words feel as if they’re punching him in the gut even though they’re the quietest, softest thing Chase thinks he’s heard in a while. But he refuses to flinch at their harsh impact. 

“I can’t imagine what it must be like. Does Stacy at least allow you to visit? Partial custody perhaps?”

Chase shakes his head.

“No. She convinced the judge I’m a terrible father and that I wouldn’t be able to support them if I got ‘em. She was right on that part, so I can’t be angry over that, and she lets me visit whenever on the weekends and holidays or if she needs help with something around the house… which is often enough I guess.” He swallows and his voice is so small he barely registers he’s spoken. “Can- can we talk about something else Wil?”

Wilford, thankfully, agrees and walks out from behind the counter and heads over to the stairs. He calls up for Markus to come and help him make dinner for the six of them tonight. It takes a few moments before Markus, the shortest of the three teens who had walked in earlier, comes hopping excitedly down and scrambles towards the kitchen. He doesn’t pause at the sight of Chase this time, instead gazing giddily at Wilford while using the counter to jump up and down. 

“What’re we making tonight daddo!?” 

Within minutes the two have some pasta boiling and shredded pieces of chicken breast being sauteed in homemade sauce. He’s told that it’s a recipe Markus had created one day with Wilford while browsing the internet for inspiration, and that the teenager has only ever made it for celebrations, making Chase feel light and fluttery inside - something he hasn’t felt in a while. 

At some point he is dragged from his chair by Wilford and over to the stove top where he is then instructed by the youngest chef-in-training to add garlic and grated parmesan to the pan of sauce and stir it all together while Markus pours in what looks like two cups worth of milk. He’s awkward and shaky as he does as instructed, even with the teen happily helping him. 

Somehow Chase manages not to burn anything and Markus adds the pan to the pot full of strained spaghetti and shredded bits of chicken. Wilford and him make their way over to the dining table that’s fit to host up to ten people easily, setting it with plates and forks and cups for food and drink to be dished up. 

It looks big, _ too big _ , but still cozy somehow. 

Everything is filled and it looks full in the room without it becoming claustrophobic. 

Wilford calls the other kids down for the meal and Chase finds himself squished between his old friend and the girl he suspects to be Sharron. She doesn’t do much other than eat quietly and side-glance at him, obviously still not over being suspicious of him. 

He doesn’t do anything to remede this though. 

He knows that if a kid wants to not trust him, it’s best to just act as if nothing is amiss.

~~~

It’s after dinner and he’s holding his cellphone, Stacy’s number displayed on the screen. He wants to call her even though he knows he shouldn’t. They’ve been split up for almost an entire year now. The divorce had been finalized and they each had their own separate life to live. 

One with three adoring kids and a new boyfriend… and one where it’s just Chase and his dirty car, living in some shitty apartment on the edge of his hometown.

He shouldn’t need her every time he feels dower about himself. 

Or misses her. 

Yet, here he is. Sitting on his friends couch, surrounded by a family that reminds him of his own before everything fell apart, right before his eyes without him even realizing he’d not been a great spouse like he thought he had been.

He hadn’t been there.

Stacy had said that was the problem.

But now that he was trying harder to be there-

Now  _ that _ was the problem… 

He sighed, committing the image of his ex and their three kids he had saved as his background for years now once again to memory, and turned his phone off. 

He shouldn’t be this upset still. 

Two years since Stacy had asked for the divorce and broke his heart… 

Maybe he was depressed. Maybe he was obsessing over things that he shouldn’t. But what else was he supposed to do? He had nothing else to take his mind off of things. His channel was dying, his ‘friends’ ignored him. So why not make himself suffer even more by thinking about what he had lost before the rest of his life had gone to shit?

“Chase,” a deep, husky voice said in clear surprise. 

He looked behind him to where Dark stood backlit in the hallway. He could see Wilfords husband glance up at the tv in the background, and then around him at the messily made up couch and the dark living room. 

It was past midnight and both Wil and the kids had gone off to bed hours ago.

“I seem to have forgotten you were coming for a visit. I would’ve taken off work earlier to come home for dinner if I had remembered. My apologies.”

Chase paused, unsure what to say.

He swallowed.

“It’s- it’s fine. You’re busy working to provide for your family man, I get it. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Yes, but you are a guest in my house. I shouldn’t be coming in at odd hours of the night to greet you instead of when you first arrive.” Dark points out to him. “That’s bad hostmanship.”

Chase didn’t know how to respond to that. 

Stacy had come home late at night from work all the time. Chase had always said it was fine because he knew it was… at least he had _ thought _ it was. Maybe it hadn’t been alright after all… 

He had never really been proper like Dark, or Wilford even. For as long as he could remember he had always been rather rowdy and outgoing. The only times he could think of that he had been polite and docile, as it were, was for weddings and celebrations and high school dances with Stacy and his other various exes and their mutual friends.

“Well,” Dark said, clearing his throat. “It looked as if you were just about to turn in for the night, so I’ll leave you to that. Goodnight Chase, pleasant dreams and apologies in advance if the children wake you tomorrow - they enjoy watching TV out here on the weekends together.”

With that, Dark finished putting his overcoat on the rack in the entryway and made his way up the stairs, leaving Chase by himself in the semi-darkness once again. He shuffled down under the thin blanket Markus had gladly gotten out of one of the houses many closets. He twisted and turned on the plush cushions, unable to find sleep now that he was ready for the dreams, the  _ memories _ , that always had him gripping a ratty pillow and crying into it.

Eventually he managed to fall asleep, tossing around uncomfortably despite the warmth and soft things that surrounded him.

~~~

The next morning, Chase woke to a throbbing in his head, and quiet explosions coming from the television. He twisted around onto his back, quickly noticing the three heads who sat on the floor in front of him. None of them had seemed to notice he was awake however - too entranced by whatever was happening on-screen.

_ “I’m gonna become the next Hokage! Believe it!”  _

_ So they watched Naruto together in the mornings then, huh? _

Chase would not have taken Wilford and Darks’ kids to be the kind who were into ‘older’ anime.

The one he was left to assume was Anothony gave off a quiet grunt of annoyance, and leaned over to whisper at his two siblings: “If I hear Naruto utter one more ‘ _ Believe it _ ’, I’m gonna make him believe I can and  _ will _ kick his ass… nine-tailed fox or not!”

“We’re only a few episodes in, you really think he’s gonna stop within nine seasons?” Sharon grins.

“I can dream…”

Suddenly the quiet sounds of Naruto and the three teenagers arguing is interrupted by a loud beeping coming from the large tv. Chase moves to sit up to get a better view. Markus, with his dark curls a bed-ridden mess, glances back at him with a worried glance before an emergency news update pops up on screen. The news reporter looks stressed though she tries to hide it with a gentle smile and clears her throat before speaking in a shaky tone that’s full of barely there sadness.

“Good morning, we interrupt your regularly scheduled program to announce that the country’s been put on lock-down due to Covid-19.” She begins and readjusts the papers on her desk so she doesn’t have to look into the eyes of her viewers. “As of right now, not much of the virus is known. Doctors and scientists report that there is an incubation period of fourteen days, and that some people may be asymptomatic and be able to spread the virus without showing any signs of having it.”

Chase isn’t sure when both Wilford and Dark enter the room, but he looks up when Dark leans over the back of the couch beside him and he feels Wil place a warm hand on his shoulder. Both men look anxious, stealing worried glances down to their kids and over to a wall of family photos that shows their only college student.

“The CDC recommends that all household members remain inside and at home unless travel is necessary. Masks and gloves are encouraged to be worn outside of the house, and to keep six feet apart from those not in the home with you. Hand washing, disinfectant, and hand sanitizer are also being encouraged by CDC recommendations whenever you return home after going to the store or doctors office.” The reporter continues. 

“Evictions are being postponed for up to 45 days. It is expected there will be many who will lose their jobs, or suffer major cuts in their hours at work. All nonessential workers are encouraged to work from home if possible to reduce the spread.”

**_…_ **

**_…_ **

**_…_ **

“There will be more at 5pm EST from the president.”


End file.
